


John Watson needs a Hug

by Mojoslip



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, John Watson Needs A Hug, John Watson Whump, John Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mojoslip/pseuds/Mojoslip
Summary: In which John Watson has a bad day and at the end of it he needs a hug from his detective.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	John Watson needs a Hug

To say John was having a bad day would be an understatement. John was having one of the worst days of his life – as worse as a normal person would say. He didn't get into a gun fight which would be normal for him, just today was one of those days where everything seemed to have gone wrong. John woke up late for work, usually Sherlock would unintentionally wake him up via his experiments or violin playing. Well not today, it seems as though his person alarm clock actually slept in which led John to wake up later than usual. 

He groggily got out of bed and ran for the shower, luckily his army training kicked in and he got showered and dressed within five minutes. He went for the kitchen to make tea but when he opened the fridge there was no milk. "Damn you, Sherlock", he cursed under his breath.

John grabbed his keys and dashed for the door, checking his watch – ten minutes till work. He ran out the door forgetting his jacket and phone only when he approached the surgery he realised. There was no time to go back he was already fifteen minutes late, hopefully Sarah would be lenient with him. His face dropped when he saw a man at the desk. The man looked up at him with a harsh face."Dr. Watson, I presume? You're late. A patient has been waiting for ten minutes now. Before you ask Dr. Sawyer is ill and I'm the second in command". John took a deep breath in, "Right, sorry Doctor. I had a bad morning, I'll get to my office now".The doctor gave him a weak smile and John scurried along to his office.

Out of habit John went to grab his phone then cursed again when he remembered he didn't have it. Sherlock would probably be texting him all day, he should probably email him to let him know. Just as the thought crossed his mind somebody knocked on his door. "Come in", he called. An elderly man walked in and trotted to the patient seat. John skimmed over his schedule for today and sighed. "Mr. Patelli, here for your prostate exam?", he said.

"Yes quite so, young man", Mr. Patelli said. The rest of the morning John spent tending to three prostate exams and a few sick children. He didn't mind tending to sick children unless they vomited on him – in which one kid did. The kid in question retched over his shoes and wiped his mouth. "Oh I'm sorry", the kid said weakly.

"Not a problem. I'm just going to clean my shoes then prescribe you some medication that your mother can pick up", he smiled falsely at the mother. Once he cleaned his shoes and passed the prescription to the mother she apologised and John said it was fine. It wasn't fine though. When they left John sunk into his chair and rubbed his face with his hands. God at least it was lunchtime. As if on cue he got a knock at the door. "Come in", he called.

"Dr. Watson, Dr. Smith is ill. Could you cover his afternoon shift for him?", the receptionist said. John knew it wasn't a question, he didn't have a say in the matter. "Of course", he said gingerly. When the door closed John hit his head on his desk in defeat. He just wanted to go home at this point – maybe Sherlock was right. Maybe he should quit his job at the surgery. John knew he couldn't do that though, he loved helping people. 

His stomach grumbled from the lack of food, he wouldn't be having his lunch now that he has to cover Dr. Smith's patients. He went through the rest of the afternoon tending to a mix of Dr. Smiths patients and his own. John performed several more prostate exams and dealt with a crying woman when he had to tell her that she lost her baby. John never got attached to his patients, that was a universal doctor rule but that didn't make letting people down any easier. 

The day finally came to and end and he left the surgery. It was colder than it was in the morning and the lack of his jacket didn't help. It was 5pm, rush hour and the hussle and bussle of people didn't lift John's mood at all. Furiously he walked down the street, on his way home. 

All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. He was hungry, cold and tired and honestly he wanted a hug. No, he needed a hug. John wasn't one for affection but sometimes the body wants want the body wants and John wanted comfort. Unfortunately he wouldn't be getting that, instead he got served a plateful of punches.Teenagers."Oi grandad, give us your wallet then", one of them sneered whilst the other pinned John against the alleyway wall. John just sighed again – he was doing that a lot today. "Grandad, I said give us your wallet". With that John headbutted the boy holding him, he collapsed and then shouted "fuck off" to the other one. 

He began walking away then felt a smack on his head. "I said fuck off!", he gritted. He grabbed both of the boys by their neck and pushed them against the wall just holding them tight enough so they couldn't escape – not hurting them. The boys squirmed in his arms and he looked at them menacingly. "I said fuck off", he repeated."Who are you?", one of the boys cried.

"None of your fucking business. I can break every fucking bone in your body whilst naming them but I won't because I have some moral compass unlike you two idiots. Don't mug people because one day you might approach the wrong person. If I catch you two again I swear to god I will hurt you. Do I make myself clear?", John threatened. Both boys nervously nodded and dropped them. "Now fuck off".

They both ran away and John took vacancy on a nearby bench. They punched him pretty hard, he lifted his hand to his head – yep blood. Sighing for what may have been the hundredth time he got up and carried on his way home. 

John was now; tired, hungry, cold, in need of a hug and bloody. He honestly wanted to cry. John had been to war, chased London criminals and he never cried, who knew that a shitty day so mundane like this would be the day to break him. He trudged home, bumping into strangers, not bothering to say sorry and finally he was in front of 221b. He opened the door and trudged up the seventeen steps to the landing, he could hear Sherlock playing the violin. 

John opened the door to the living room and watched him, he had his back to John. After a few moments Sherlock turned around and caught eye of John. "Oh John you're home. You left your phone here and your coat by the way", he said. John didn't reply he just stood leaning against the door frame. "John? You're bleeding. What happened?", Sherlock put his violin down and refocused his eyes to John who still didn't move."John?", he said again.

John let out a breath and walked over to Sherlock, he stood just in front of him. "John?", he repeated but this time it was just a whisper. In response John slid his arms around Sherlock's waist and placed his cheek on his chest, he felt Sherlock tense but then he relaxed and cautiously wrapped his arms around the shorter man. 

"John?", he asked again. It seemed like it was the only word in his vocabulary.

"I need a hug", John muffled.

"Oh", Sherlock replied and tightened his grip on the doctor, John snuggled closer into the detective's chest. They stood hugging for perhaps a minute or two then John gingerly released himself from the embrace but he held onto Sherlock's waist. Sherlock already missed the warmth. "Are you okay?", he asked softly. John gave him a false smile, "Just had a bad day". Sherlock nodded and studied John for a few moments.

"I wont deduce what was bad about your day because you already know that but can you tell me if I was right on one thing. The hug was for comfort right?".

"Yeah for comfort", John confirmed.

"Why did you hug me?", Sherlock asked. John rubbed small circles with his thumbs on Sherlock's hips. "Who else would I hug?", he said.

"You could have hugged Mrs. Hudson".

"Yes I could have", John replies.

"Then why didn't you?". John sighed but this time it was because the incompetence of his best friend. "I hugged you specifically because I find comfort in you. Usually not physically but today I was craving physical comfort", John explained.

"Oh", Sherlock said then blinked for a few moments. "Would you like another hug?", he said in an octave lower. John bit his lip and embraced the lanky detective again. This time Sherlock rested his cheek in John's hair and he inhaled the aroma of John – cheap shampoo, disinfectant and vanilla. "Sherlock?", John said quietly."Yeah?", he replied.

"Thank you".

Sherlock squeezed him gently, "You're welcome, John".


End file.
